


Every Breath You Take

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Impact Play, M/M, Nipple Play, Restraints, Rough Sex, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://klaineandbiscuits.tumblr.com/">klaineandbiscuits</a> who requested “Klaine as actors sharing a dressing room.  Kurt needs assistance with the corset-like component of his costume and Blaine is more than happy to oblige.” </p>
<p>This turned into a D/S BDSM thing with sub!Kurt and dom!Blaine.  Warnings for: light breathplay, face-fucking, restraint, and sex that’s a little rougher than normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Breath You Take

"It'll look good on your resume, they said," Kurt huffs, yanking the stiff-backed corset around his waist. "It'll make you look diverse, it's an excellent company, they said. Would it've killed them to hire a few extra stage hands?" 

Blaine is putting the last minute touches on his blush, stockings and tunic already in place. "Let me guess: it was her kids this time?"

"God, no, I don't mind when it's her kids, this time it was her alcoholism which, let me tell you, I have less sympathy for," Kurt rattles off, adjusting his wig. "Shit. Can you give me a hand? They were going to send Steven back but then a fuse on the lighting panel blew and they needed him to crawl behind the--" He huffs. "Calming down. I promise. Sorry. Help?"

There is no doubt that their opening night is rapidly becoming a disaster. 

When Kurt had joined the company--a theater group dedicated to gender-switching characters among an all-male cast--Blaine had been excited. 

Kurt is gorgeous, talented, and can sing the female parts better than most females. 

His one problem is that he gets flustered easily. Not on stage, never on stage, but frequently off, and most of the time Blaine is there to witness it. But he likes to think they've become friends, enough so that Kurt has learned to take some comfort from his presence. It's why he's taken so much time to get ready tonight; he'd sensed a breakdown was imminent.

"Kurt," he says, pitching his voice low and soft as he gathers up the loose strands of Kurt's corset laces and begins untangling them. "Honey. Take a deep breath. Let it out. This stuff happens all the time. Hell, this stuff will continue happening probably while we're on stage. This theater is a dive and our budget is so small we can't even afford Happy Meals."

Kurt laughs, eyes crinkling up, shaking his head. He is a vision in sparkly white, from the frosted tips of his up-swept hair to the snow-like glitter on his cheeks and chest to the pale corset and skirt drawn tight across his slender body. He looks every inch a snow nymph, ripe and ready for the taking.

Blaine feels himself begin to blush and looks away from the mirror where their eyes had met just a little too long for comfort.

He pulls the corset lacing hard to get it into place. Kurt grabs the edge of the vanity table and holds on. It's not a real corset, of course, at least--not historically accurate. And it isn't worn as tightly as it should be, because he has to move and sing, but it's close enough.

Blaine takes his time, more for the sake of calming Kurt down than doing it right. Working for this theater group, he's spent more than his fair share of time in tight-fitting garments or helping others into them.

And, well. 

There might be a slight element of obsessive gazing about it, too. Kurt is beautiful, in ways that are strikingly feminine and ways that are strikingly masculine the two sometimes overlapping so well that Blaine stares at him and tries to figure out how he can be both so flawlessly at once. It's less noticeable when he's not in drag, of course, but it's always there, that tantalizing blend.

Once he has the corset untangled and in place he begins the task of lacing it from the bottom up with hard, confident pulls. As each lace is drawn, Kurt's breathing slows a little. His eyes flutter shut and his cheeks go naturally red beneath the stage makeup. Blaine watches him, enthralled.

By the time Blaine reaches the top, brushing his knuckles over the soft powder-brushed ridges of Kurt's shoulder blades, Kurt is wavering on his feet, eyelids quivering, mouth a soft parted circle.

God, he is stunning. Stunning and for some reason, putty under Blaine's hands.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes flick open, finding Blaine's through their reflection. He almost wets his lips but remembers the stage paint and just rolls them together, almost nervously, standing up straighter. 

"Too tight?" he asks, though his voice is rough and somehow it feels as if he's asking something else.

"Perfect," Kurt says, breathing faster than normal.

 

*

 

The good news is that the rest of the week goes much better than opening night; they replace the backstage assistant (temporarily, at least) and bully the landlord who owns the building to fix the wiring problem. 

Kurt calms down considerably once he starts performing, floating through his numbers and scenes like a champ. Blaine's part isn't quite so front and center, so he spends whatever down time he has in the wings watching Kurt alternately make love to and murder his (her) lover again and again.

He's really good. Not long for this small town theater company good. New York City good. It's only a matter of time before one of the roving recruiters snatches him up and they all know it.

 

*

 

They go out for dinner often after the shows. There's this one late night diner that they love, cheap as dirt with milkshakes to die for and a waitstaff that isn't shy about topping off their milkshakes on the sly. Kurt is always the first one to suggest it, and on this particular night it's them and four other actors.

The other four gentlemen eat and head home to bed one by one until it's just Kurt and Blaine nursing their milkshake refills and poking each other awake when their heads dip sleepily. It's late, but they're both night owls and typically stay up as late as they can during performance weeks since rehearsal isn't until the late morning and they can sleep in.

"Want to chug an energy drink and go out?" Kurt asks, apropos of nothing, sucking the dregs of his milkshake up noisily.

Blaine squints, putting on his best thinky face, which makes Kurt laugh. "Is this our pre-pre-closing night party?"

"Party of two," Kurt says in a lofty, high-pitched British accent, pretending to ring an imaginary bell.

Blaine laughs. "Okay, okay. Lead the way. I'll provide the Red Bull."

What Blaine likes most about going out with Kurt is that neither of them are heavy drinkers--they'll sip drinks that are as much juice as alcohol until they get tipsy and then they stop, soak it up with pretzels or tortilla chips until the buzz is gone. They don't care for the club scene or even gay bars, despite both being gay.

It's taken Blaine years to find a friend who isn't heavy into the scene or into drinking to get smashed, so he always feels stupidly grateful when he goes out with Kurt.

They get hit on a lot, despite hugging the outskirts of Columbus nightlife, but for the most part it's fun and easy; Kurt hates being seriously hit on though he'll play along to a point if the guy is sweet and polite. Blaine often doesn't even realize he's being hit on until it's too late. He's not crazy about bar hookups and so Kurt comes to his rescue if he needs it.

They're just excellent friends. Blaine has never had one quite like Kurt.

The thought that Kurt will most likely move on next season is beginning to weigh on his mind, though.

He thinks about it all the way back to Kurt's apartment, where they change into more acceptable going out attire (he keeps some clothes at Kurt's place because they end up together so often now).

Kurt looks amazing as always, painted on black jeans and a bright shirt, but tonight he's added a thin leather collar instead of his usual scarf and--something about it brings Blaine up short.

"Do I still have makeup somewhere?" Kurt asks in response to his staring, pale fingertips fluttering over his neck and collarbone.

"No," Blaine breathes, shaking his head. "No, you look great."

Kurt drops it and he gives himself another shake once they're downtown, trying to suppress the thoughts that have risen to the surface. He and Kurt are just friends--amazing friends. He shouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. Finding Kurt attractive is--okay, it's impossible to not find him attractive, but it's one thing to feel it and another thing to act on it.

 

*

 

Kurt is being hit on and not in the nice way. Blaine recognizes that look of panic from across the bar and before he can even safely put his drink down on its damp napkin he's cutting through the crowd.

The guy is not giving Kurt any chance of escape--he has one arm against the wall and one arm on Kurt's elbow and Kurt is clearly freaking out, though he's hiding it well. He gets weirdly introverted at moments like these and often doesn't know when to say no.

Blaine doesn't feel obligated to rescue Kurt, but as a friend he does feel obligated to provide him with a means of escape. There have been many times when the situation has been reversed, when Blaine has had too much wine (wine does strange things to him) and fallen behind in the conversation and only realized that he needed a hand to get out of a situation when the guy had already convinced himself that he had a chance.

Plan A is very simple. Hopefully there will be no need for Plan B tonight.

"Honey," he calls, "there you are!" He slides an arm around Kurt's shoulders and tugs him close, kissing his cheek. "Your drink's getting warm." He glances at the guy, smiling brightly. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is--"

"Nice to meet you," the guy says, narrowing his eyes just a little at Blaine before disappearing into the crowd.

Kurt literally go limps against Blaine's side, closing his eyes. "Sorry. He was getting intense and I just--please don't let me drink rum ever again."

Blaine pets the back of Kurt's neck, letting his fingers catch on the leather briefly. It's so tempting to use the collar the way he's wanted to since he saw it earlier, to hook his fingers between Kurt's skin and the leather and tug--

"Promise," he breathes. 

He needs to put some space between them if he wants to maintain without saying or doing something incredibly stupid right now. He's a little buzzed and Kurt is warm from the crowded bar and his Long Island iced teas and Blaine hadn't even noticed but when Blaine had put his arm around Kurt's shoulder Kurt had put his arm around Blaine's waist, and Kurt's fingers are currently digging into his hip and it feels good.

Playing his boyfriend, even for one stupidly fake possessive moment, feels way too right.

"Hey," Kurt breathes, holding on. "You have somewhere to be?" He smiles, using his grip on Blaine's body to turn him so that they're face to face, Blaine's fingers still caught on his collar.

"Um," Blaine replies, drawn in by those beautiful blue-green eyes. He laughs, shaking his head. "No."

"Wanna dance?" Kurt asks, still holding him by the waist. "Not here, I mean, there's a club on the corner--it's not too loud, mixed crowd--"

"Sure," he blurts. 

This is a terrible idea. This is not going to end well. What are you doing, Blaine Anderson?

They sober up a little during the walk but it's not far enough to shake the loose, warm, wanting buzz from underneath Blaine's skin. Kurt gets them drinks and they knock them back quickly so they can get on the dance floor, which also doesn't do much good.

Before he can mention finding other men to dance with Kurt's arms are around his waist and he's being pulled onto the floor. The bass line pounds through his shoes, shivering across his body like electricity through a wire. He hooks one arm around Kurt's neck and allows himself to be pulled closer.

They've danced together before, but it's never felt like this.

The question is, is this mutual or is it just something that Blaine is feeling? Is the desire to grab Kurt by the throat and push him against a wall and kiss him until he can't breathe happening now because Kurt wants that, too, or because he just looks amazing tonight, because rum unbalances him, because Blaine hasn't gotten laid in a long time, because Blaine wants him to be interested? Because Blaine knows that he may not always have Kurt in his life and he's panicking because all of the sudden that sounds awful and it makes him want to dig his claws in and hold on?

He gets uncomfortable fast, and Kurt slides a hand up his back. "You okay?"

The lights and the music and the dozens of bodies on top of his swirling half-drunk thoughts prove to be too much in combination. He leads Kurt off of the dance floor to a relatively secluded, unpopular corner where empty crates are stacked and there's no room to dance.

"Sorry," he says, having to shout even here to be heard over the music. "I think mixing was a bad idea."

"Shit, I should've got us something else, sorry," Kurt replies, leaning close to hear him. And somewhere between that and Blaine turning farther away from the dance floor Kurt's arms find his waist again and his curl around Kurt's neck. "I think we're both kind of exhausted. Maybe this was a bad idea."

Blaine hardly hears the words, because that is so very much not the problem that it is almost comical.

He inhales shakily against Kurt's neck, breathing in the smell of leather and sweat and Kurt's faded cologne. There are more stage makeup elements to it now than anything else, but he can still smell it underneath all that. He can't help but tuck a fingertip behind the collar that Kurt is wearing, working the pad of it along warm skin beneath. As he holds that position, Kurt begins to inhale and exhale to the rhythm of the music. 

It's hypnotic. Blaine slides his finger from the back of the collar to the front, tracing the knob of Kurt's Adam's apple. His pulse is beating frantically there.

"You really like it, don't you?" Kurt asks unevenly. "You've been staring at it all night," he goes on, mouth brushing Blaine's ear in the process.

Fuck.

That's not it, not all of it. Yes, he loves the collar. He loves the idea of what he could do with that collar if Kurt let him. He loves that it's woken him up in ways that he can't quite wrap his mind around yet.

But all of that has only happened because he likes Kurt. Everything about Kurt. If he can't tell Kurt that, then the rest of it is meaningless. The last thing he wants out of this relationship is anything meaningless.

On a more base level, it's impossible to ignore the hard, slender curve of Kurt's body tucked against his. He's all muscle. It makes Blaine's mouth go wet and his mind fill with images of wrapping those long limbs under his own, of pressing Kurt into something, anything, and grinding their bodies together. And more, so much more, things that he's never even done with another guy--

He inhales shakily. 

Decision time. Deflect or confess but do not reject him, do not make him feel bad.

But would he have even brought it up if he didn't want to talk about it?

It hits Blaine like a bolt out of the blue; Kurt wants to talk about this. Kurt wants--

Fuck. 

Just that thought, just that notion, Kurt wanting, Kurt maybe needing--it sends him into a spiral, makes the muscles of his shoulders tighten, makes something hot and hard and strong surge inside of his chest. He feels a confidence that he's never felt before. 

He gives the collar a tug, drawing it up roughly against Kurt's Adam's apple, at the same time as he walks Kurt backward into the nearest wall.

"Did you wear it for me?" he asks, flushing all over.

"Yes," Kurt confesses, shaking in his arms. "You've always--every time, with the corsets--and that shirt I wore once with the buckles. The pants with the laces. Every time, you get this look like you've gone somewhere else, and--" Blaine twists the collar tighter and Kurt whimpers. "I ran out of ways to be subtle about it."

"How did you know?" he asks. He himself hadn't even known until tonight.

"I get this feeling," Kurt says, turning his face against Blaine's temple, nosing softly against it. "You make me feel safe but at the same time like I'm going to shake apart. I--think I'm right about you. Am I?"

Fuck.

"Kurt, god," he groans, "are you sure? Do you want to get out of here?"

"Yes, and please," comes the breathless response.

 

*

 

They don't touch again until they're safely inside Kurt's apartment. Even then it's a little awkward--Kurt is shaking and needy, twining his arms around Blaine, nudging their bodies together, not wanting to let go for too long. He seems a little unstable, and Blaine wants to make him feel comfortable enough to let go. Kurt needs to know that he isn't going anywhere.

"Can you take off your shoes for me? And go get comfortable, wherever you like."

Blaine needs a moment to figure out how the hell he needs to start this. It's not just sex. It's not just about getting off, or hooking up, or even their friendship--it's so much more.

"Okay," Kurt answers, fidgeting with his collar and his sleeves, and disappears into the bedroom.

Blaine shrugs out of his jacket, shoes, and socks. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and counts to thirty, then removes his watch and his cellphone from his pants pocket. He counts to thirty again, eyes drifting to the bedroom, where a soft orange glow is spilling from the half-open door.

His heart is pounding so loudly that it's all he can hear.

He wants this. It's frightening, the width and breadth of it, the images that are flashing through his head. It doesn't all have to happen tonight but common sense doesn't stop him from wanting it all, right here and now.

He crosses the tiny hallway and enters the bedroom.

Kurt is spread out on the bed on his back in just his black briefs and the collar.

Blaine's breath literally freezes in his chest and every frantic pound of his heart that comes after screams yes.

"God," he exhales. "God, Kurt, you--"

Kurt bites his lip. He's flushed pink over pale skin, looking like something out a fairy tale, every soft dip and proud curve of muscle making Blaine's hands shake with the need to touch.

"Should I have waited? I can put my clothes back on."

"Oh my god, no. No, sweetheart, you're perfect. You--you know what I want even though I hardly do," Blaine says, closing the distance between them.

"What do--what do you want?" Kurt asks, eyelashes fanning dark over his cheeks. His voice is high-pitched and threadbare and he's trembling on the bed, goosebumps flowering along his strong thighs.

"I want to take care of you," is what comes spilling out. Blaine strokes a hand down Kurt's chest. He's fully erect inside of his underwear and the shape of it--Blaine's own cock twitches sympathetically in his pants.

Kurt whimpers. "I want that, too. Please--" His arms and shoulders twitch.

"Do you have--" Blaine can't stop staring at those beautiful, pale, strong arms. "Can I tie you to the bed?" Kurt's eyes go wild.

"Under the bed, I have--cuffs."

The bed has a cheap metal frame, so with the shifting of a few pillows it's nothing to create a direct line from Kurt's body to a comfortable latch. Blaine shakes as he hooks the lined handcuffs around Kurt's wrists.

Kurt begins to pant and rock up into the air at the first snag of resistance after they're on.

"You're so beautiful," Blaine breathes, stroking his sweaty belly. "God, so fucking perfect, I'm just--I wish I hadn't waited, I wish I'd--"

"Please kiss me," Kurt whimpers. "Please, please kiss me now."

He kneels beside Kurt's prone form and gently cups his face, turning it into a bruising, fierce kiss. It takes everything Blaine has in him not to go too wild with it but he gets close regardless, sucking and biting and keening until Kurt's mouth is cherry red and wet with spit under his.

Oh god it's good, it's so good.

Panting, he blazes a trail of kisses down Kurt's jaw and throat, biting at the soft flesh just above and then below the collar.

"Pull it," Kurt begs. "Pull it tight."

He grasps the edge and tugs, latching onto a patch of skin and sucking hard, bringing a red-purple bruise to the surface as Kurt's breathing goes funny. Blaine knows that he can barely exhale with the collar that tight, and inhaling only allows it to go tighter. He lets go after a moment, gasping for air himself. The mark on Kurt's throat stands out beautifully, a splash of color among so much milky white.

"God, god, Blaine," Kurt pants, thrashing. The metal of the cuffs clanks against the metal of the bed frame.

Blaine straddles Kurt's legs and gently draws his body out longer so that the stretch between his arms the restraints reaches maximum draw. Kurt whimpers, staring up at him, spreading his legs, and under the dim light of the bedroom Blaine can see the wet stain at the front where he's been leaking.

"You're so far gone already," Blaine says in awe, rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's thighs.

"Want you," Kurt gasps, thrusting up though there's nothing but air to rub against. His cock does grind against the material of his underwear and that seems to be enough to make him grow harder, thicker. The wet spot spreads. "Oh please I'm so hard--"

Blaine stares, enthralled. He doesn't feel any particular need to touch just yet, despite the pretty begging.

He takes a breath to calm himself--he's dizzy and his ears are ringing and a part of him just wants to take, but that's not enough, it would never be enough--and shrugs out of his shirt. 

Kurt watches him with glazed eyes.

He undoes his belt slowly, pulling it from its loops and folding it around his hand.

Kurt whimpers at the sight.

He doubles the belt, then triples it, leaving a thick, short nub of folded leather at the edge of his fist. He doesn't know what drives him to do it, but before he can even really consider it he brings it down in a soft slap against Kurt's left nipple.

"Blaine--"

"Okay?"

"Yes!"

He does it again on the other, and then back and forth until Kurt's nipples have become red, swollen, aching nubs. When they look too irritated he stops, bends over them and gently soothes them with his tongue.

"Oh, god, oh god, oh god--"

Kurt's skin is salty-sweet and vibrant under his mouth. It would be so easy to become addicted to that taste. 

He kisses his way back up Kurt's throat, taking his time to revisit the dark mark he'd sucked into that creamy flesh minutes before. Kurt shivers, pulling against his restraints. 

Kissing him, Blaine says, "Tell me what you want. I want to give you what you need but I think you need a lot, so tell me what you want right now. I'll do it." He licks inside Kurt's mouth, seeking. "I'll do anything you want.

The feeling of his fully clothed body rubbing against Kurt's naked one is a heady thing; he thinks he likes it, the way he feels unexposed and powerful with Kurt naked and restrained and vulnerable beneath him. He's responsible for all of that quaking, soft flesh, it's all his to worship and stimulate and look after.

Kurt churns his pelvis up, rubbing their cocks together.

Blaine groans, slamming his hips down to still Kurt's. "Don't. Not yet. Just tell me." He distracts himself by staring at Kurt's splayed fingers just above the stark black strap of the cuffs around his wrists, stretched high above his wrecked hair.

"I want your cock in my mouth," Kurt exhales, cheeks flushing. "And then in my ass. I want you to fuck me with your clothes on."

"Can I add details?" Blaine asks, reeling, kneeling up again over Kurt's waist.

"Please."

He walks forward on his knees, not stopping until he's straddling Kurt's shoulders. "Undo my pants with your mouth."

"Oh, god, yes, I'd--yes," Kurt whines, grasping the cloth in his teeth and yanking left to right until the button slides free. The zipper is easier; he can just grasp the tab between his lips and pull.

"Underwear, too."

He fumbles for the elastic band with both teeth and tongue until he has it and then he pulls. It takes a moment to get the band down far enough to give over the bulging block of Blaine's erection, but finally it's done; Blaine's cock bobs free, brushing his face.

Kurt whimpers, neck arching forward.

Blaine grabs him by the collar to hold him still, then slowly pushes the shaft into his waiting mouth. Fuck, the pleasure is so sharp that he could cry. Kurt's mouth hollows around him and he twitches, tightening the collar in the process.

"Okay?" he asks.

Kurt nods, mouth full, and begins licking him, dropping content, wet little whimpers around him.

"Oh, honey, feels so good," he gasps, "just like that, just like that."

He thrusts but only a little, short jabs that rub the head of cock against Kurt's cheek and palate and across his tongue. He only goes deeper when Kurt's had time to get used to him, and then only because Kurt pulls off to say, "You can--farther. I--" He blushes when Blaine traces the shape of his mouth with the head of Blaine's cock. "I want you to fuck my throat a little."

God--

He's spent most of his adult life trying to not do that to guys, and here is Kurt asking for it like it's some kind of reward.

But he does. It feels ridiculously good, the wet clamp of Kurt's throat around the head of his cock, the back pull to allow him to breathe, the push forward to cut off his air again, the hot clamp of his mouth around the base of Blaine's cock, the feel of Kurt's barely-there stubble scraping against Blaine's balls.

Kurt urges him deeper and he finds himself buried to the hilt in that mouth, literally grinding into Kurt's face.

When Kurt starts to twitch he rapidly pulls out, sobbing. "Baby, stop."

Kurt licks his lips, staring at him with a feral hunger. "I can take it."

"I know you can," he pants, "but you wanted something else from me and I need this to do it." He smiles, stroking Kurt's cheek.

Kurt smiles, turning his face to kiss Blaine's palm. "Sorry. Tunnel vision."

"Do you expect me to complain? Because if you're waiting, you may be disappointed," Blaine answers, grinning boyishly as he kneels back down Kurt's body, fingernails scraping long pink trails down his sides that end just above the waistband of his underwear, which are by now soaked with pre-come.

"I could come just from that," Kurt breathes, watching him. "From you fucking my mouth."

"How?" 

"I taught myself how to come just rubbing against my underwear," Kurt says, eyes wet and wide.

"I'm glad you didn't, this time," Blaine says. "I want to see your face when you come for me." He gently sweeps his thumb back and forth over the front of Kurt's briefs, watches his face as it goes shuttered and dark with restraint.

"Oh, god. Oh god I'm close."

"You're sensitive," Blaine says, peeling the sticky cloth down around Kurt's thighs. His cock is long and dark, flushed reddish pink at the head and wet from all the trapped pre-ejaculate. "Another night--another night I'm going to suck you off. I'm going to take my time, taste you, tease you, until it hurts and then I'm going to swallow every drop you give me--"

"Blaine, stop. Blaine I can't--right now I can't even--fuck." His cock twitches and gives up a drop of fluid. 

Blaine's own erection is jutted out in front of him and he puts a hand on it, working it with a few slow pulls as he gets a condom from his wallet with his free hand. He'd retrieved lubricant from beneath the bed when he'd found the cuffs.

Kurt is panting. His skin glistens with sweat and his eyes are a little damp as he watches Blaine stroke himself. "You're so gorgeous," he breathes, cock throbbing. "I could just watch you. I could just watch you get off on me and not come and not even care. I'd rub your come into my skin and just--let it go down."

"Another time?" Blaine asks, breathing heavily as he jerks himself hard and slow. Kurt's spread thighs are too much of a temptation. He couldn't change the game plan now even if he wanted to--though he would if Kurt wanted to.

"Definitely," Kurt agrees, tugging his restraints absently.

Condom on, Blaine gets his fingers wet and reaches behind Kurt's balls. "Do you need a lot?"

Kurt shakes his sweaty head, causing several salty droplets to curve down the side of his face. "Just a couple of fingers. I like a lot of lube, though."

"Okay." Blaine gets more, working it against Kurt's tiny, warm pucker with two fingertips. He exhales, letting the time stretch out. This part can't be rushed and in and of itself is a pleasure, feeling that flickering muscle relax and give way. Kurt's cock throbs with every sudden movement and Blaine again has to tamp down on the urge to lean over him and swallow him whole. "Wrap your legs around me."

God, his legs go on forever. They lock smartly around Blaine's lower back, heels digging in.

Kurt rarely glances away from Blaine's cock. His bottom lip is shining with spit and he licks it away, chest rising and falling unevenly. His nipples still look sore, twin nubs pink and pebbled. He looks like sin incarnate.

"Please," he breathes. "Please now?"

Blaine shifts forward, pushing Kurt's pelvis off of the bed a little. "Push into me," Blaine says, holding his cock in one hand, rocking forward to rub the head over Kurt's entrance. He lets go slowly, holding Kurt's thigh with a lube-slippery hand as he pushes forward, urges the tip past that first ring of muscle.

"Ohgodyes," Kurt gasps, clamping his legs and pushing back.

It's a slow, sweet burning drag but Kurt doesn't ask him to stop, just sinks and opens and god, it's the tightest, warmest, wettest Blaine has ever had. He holds his breath until he bottoms out, then grinds forward, working himself as deep as he can go.

"Fuck, Kurt."

He hears Kurt's cuffs clank against the bed frame and opens his eyes to see him arching up, rolling his pelvis down and then up to drag Blaine's cock over his prostate. Blaine trembles.

"Shh," he whispers, stroking Kurt's sweaty body. "Don't rush. Don't rush, okay? I want to feel you."

He draws back and then settles into a slow, torturous pace. It's half desire and half necessity; if he wants to last he sort of has to. But it's delicious to go slow, savoring every slippery clamp of Kurt's ass around his cock, pulling back to tease the swollen rim with the head only to fill him hard and sudden again and again and again.

"Harder," Kurt eventually gasps, squirming on him. "Please, fuck me harder."

Blaine readjusts his grip, dragging Kurt's hips higher and fucking more up than in, and just a little faster. "Can you come from this?"

"Yes," Kurt gasps, body shaking and restraints jangling noisily as Blaine fucks him.

Blaine gently hooks two fingers behind Kurt's collar and pulls. "Do you like this when you're close?"

"Oh god if you do that now I--"

"I want to make you come," Blaine murmurs. "I want to make you come so hard." He twists it tight, not enough to cut off breathing but just enough to make Kurt's breath clip short. His face flushes darker and his body goes wild beneath Blaine's. 

Blaine rocks relentlessly, fast and hard, making Kurt take him to the root again and again. He tugs the collar, using it to hold Kurt still.

"Fuck," Kurt whines. "Right there. Yeah, just--don't stop, fuck."

Kurt's pleasure is much more important than his and so it's not a chore to just watch, hips on autopilot, as Kurt chases the grind of his prostate against Blaine's cock, as he twitches his body so that the head of his cock rubs rubs rubs against the skin of his belly, providing extra friction. 

When he comes with a sob it spills down his stomach and chest and puddles somewhere in the middle, jolt after sweet jolt. His whole body clamps down around Blaine, milking him hard, and it takes every bit of restraint Blaine has to not come until Kurt is done. He lets go with a groan, biting down on a patch of Kurt's thigh as he spills inside the condom.

"Oh my god," he gasps, shaking from head to toe.

Kurt turns his face against his inner arm, breathing and trembling on the bed. His chest is painted with translucent white stripes of come and his cock is softening. 

"How--how are your hands?"

Kurt gives a weak flutter. "A little numb."

"Okay," Blaine answers, falling forward on his hands and unhooking them from the bed, then undoing the clasps to take them off of Kurt's wrists. He gently rubs feeling back into Kurt's hands while his body comes down.

"Towels," Kurt says, pointing to a small stack just beside the bed. 

They clean up in silence, discard the condom, and Blaine sits back on his ass, legs screaming at him from kneeling for so long. It's strange to still be dressed after all of that; his clothes are ruined with sweat and lube and come splatter, anyway. He tucks himself back into his clothes out of habit.

Kurt sits up, rubbing his forearms. "Are you alright?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

He smiles. "It's intense for both parties, not just--"

"The submissive?" Blaine ventures.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Blaine shakes his head. "Was it--was it what you wanted?"

Blaine draws Kurt forward into his lap, draping Kurt's legs over and around him. "You were what I wanted. The--all this other stuff was just a happy coincidence."

"We don't have to always--like this. I don't do this with every guy I date, I mean," Kurt explains.

"Have you dated a lot of guys?" Blaine asks.

Kurt chuckles. "Not really. That's why I--never said anything, I just--wasn't sure."

"I'm kind of crazy about you," Blaine says, burying his face in Kurt's sweat-soaked neck. "Is that okay?"

"That is more than okay," Kurt replies, smiling ear to ear.


End file.
